


Like Father, Like Son

by An_Odd_Idea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, No actual violence, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sleep Deprivation, Threats of Violence, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, arc reactors, forced to build, the author has no idea how to build an arc reactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/pseuds/An_Odd_Idea
Summary: 48 hours to build a reactor.  More accurately, 48 hours to talk Peter through building a reactor.  And Tony is chained on the other side of the room.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 42
Kudos: 241





	Like Father, Like Son

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to LBIGreyhound13, SuperHeroTiger, and ravenclawlair, all on tumblr, for all the support and excitement over this. Y’all were so hyped, and I really hope this lives up to it.

Tony’s head ached. His neck ached, too, and his back, and every part of him, really. That probably had something to do with the chair he’d been slumped in. He groaned, tried to stretch, and froze.

He couldn’t move. Not much, anyway. Cuffs around his wrists held him firmly to the metal chair, and his heart began to race as he took in the situation and—

“Mr. Stark?”

_Oh no._

Tony turned his head to see Peter sitting on the floor at the edge of the room, both arms chained to the bare concrete wall.

_Oh NO._

Tony tried to take a deep breath, but something strangely restrictive clung around his neck, like a collar of some sort. He forced himself to breathe anyway and found he could, despite how tight it felt.

“Where are we?”

Peter shrugged. “I just woke up a while ago, too.”

“Alright.” Tony took another deep breath, because he was the adult here and he needed to stay on top of the situation as much as possible. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Fine. What’s on my neck?”

“Like a metal collar or something.” Peter shifted slightly, and the rattle of his chains grated on Tony’s nerves. “Is that what I have, too?”

Tony studied the thick gray band, and an ominous weight settled in his stomach. “Looks like it.”

“I bet I could…” Peter gave an experimental tug at the chains attached to the wall.

“Don’t.” Tony lifted his chin, drawing Peter’s attention to his own collar again.

“Just saying.”

As far as Tony could see, the room was empty except for them. It was fairly large, high-ceilinged and flooded with harsh light, all concrete except the far wall in front of him, which seemed like more of a partition than a true wall. That part was definitely unsettling; anything could be behind there. 

Tony squirmed in the chair, now trying to get a look over his shoulder. Unlike Peter, he hadn’t been given the luxury of having his back to a wall, and it felt horribly exposed.

“There’s a wall and a door back there,” said Peter. “I’m watching it.”

Bless that kid. Tony stopped struggling to twist around and see. “Pretty soon, someone’s going to come in here or get on a speaker and tell us what they want. Let me do the talking.”

“Okay.” For a fraction of a second, a flicker of real apprehension passed across Peter’s face, and Tony was reminded of just how young he really was.

He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Fortunately for us, kidnapping me has historically always been a terrible idea.”

“Yeah.” Peter gave a tight smile in return.

“We’ll be alright.”

“Okay.”

Peter was looking at him like he held the world in his hands, and Tony wanted to look away, because any promise he made in a situation like this— or any situation, really— absolutely did not warrant such hope or trust from anyone like what he saw in Peter’s eyes. “Keep an eye on the door, kid.”

  
“Someone’s coming.”

“About time,” Tony grumbled. “Remember, I do the talking.”

Peter nodded, and that scared look was back, stronger than before.

“Not my first rodeo, kid,” said Tony. “I know how these things go.”

Peter’s head snapped toward the door, and Tony heard the sound of it opening and footsteps walking toward him from behind. That was definitely uncomfortable, but it helped to know at least Peter had an eye on whoever was sneaking up on him. Then there he was, a short, glasses-wearing man whose mustache could almost have re-forested the top of his balding head had he transplanted it there. It shone distractingly in the fluorescent light.

“Tony!” The man smiled, throwing out his arms as if delighted to see him. “It’s been so long.”

Tony frowned as recognition hit him. “William?”

“I’m surprised you remember me, after all these years.”

“Course I remember you.” Tony could have said more. Would have said more, about the reactor, about Stane, about the betrayal, if it hadn’t been for Peter. “What do you want?”

“Everyone said you were a genius, you know.” William clasped his hands behind his back, as if launching into a well-rehearsed speech. “And maybe you were, and maybe you were able to build that _thing_ in a cave, but you never shared.”

“With good reason.”

“I was one of your best scientists, and you never shared,” William went on, his voice shaking slightly. “I was trying to replicate the most advanced piece of technology in the world, and you know what I got? _Tony Stark_ —“ he spat the name like a curse— “built this in a _cave_!”

Tony had a few words to say about why he’d been trying to replicate the arc reactor for Stane in the first place, but a highly emotional kidnapper and Peter so nearby were not a good mix.

“You never shared anything with me. You let me look like a fool, the best scientist in your company, I wasn’t worth your time. And now you have this _kid_ , this KID, who is?” William’s voice rose almost to a shout. “Is he worthy of all your secrets, Stark? Have you taught him everything you know? And let your own people play the fool?”

Whatever Tony had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He shot a glance at Peter, who thankfully looked more uncomfortable than afraid at the moment.

William was shaking, having just unleashed multiple years worth of bitterness all at once. “Or are you just using him, too?”

Tony opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off.

“I’m a scientist, Stark; we don’t ask questions. We _hypothesize_ , and then we test.”

Tony’s stomach lurched. William pulled a small gray remote from the pocket of his lab coat and clicked a button, and the partition that made up the far wall began to slide away, revealing another room about the size of the one they were in now. Lights clicked on as the partition retreated to show it was a lab of sorts, with a work bench along the farthest wall, piled with supplies and... weapons?

“I never did manage to replicate your amazing work, but I’d still like to see it done again.”

Tony snorted.

William rounded on him. “What?”

“Just wondering if you recall what I _did_ with the reactor, after someone kidnapped me and tried to force me to build things.”

“Oh, I recall,” William chuckled. “ _You’re_ not getting anywhere near these supplies. I want the kid to build me a reactor.”

Tony glanced at Peter again, purely out of instinct, and met his uneasy gaze for a split second before turning back to William. “That’s it? That’s your evil plan you had to kidnap us for? You could have just asked.”

“I’m a scientist,” said William. “And I haven’t explained the rules yet.”

A chill of dread ran down Tony’s spine.

“The kid works over there, and you coach him. I know you used old Stark weapons to build your first reactor, so I rounded some up for him. If he carries them or any other supplies past this point—“ he gestured to the groove where the partition had slid away, which now separated the half of the room with the work area from the half where Tony sat chained— “they detonate.”

Tony’s heart clenched.

“I’ve been generous. He has more than you got in that cave, real tools, for one thing, although I doubt you’ve taught him enough even to coach him through that. But in the name of science, I have to balance it somehow.” William looked Tony directly in the eye. “You have two days.”

“Two days!” Tony burst out, while Peter simply looked dismayed.

“And I should warn you, Stark, if you lead him wrong, try to help him pull an ‘Iron Teenager,’ that collar—“ he pointed at Peter, who seemed to shrink— “will detonate too.”

Tony almost choked on a breath.

“Good luck.”

“What about his?” Peter cut in, having recovered fast for someone who had just learned the thing around his neck might blow his head off. “Why does he have one?”

“I’m glad you asked.” William took another remote, this one black, out of his lab coat. “This is yours, and I’ve already told you what it does.” He pointed to one of the two buttons, the blue one, and Tony almost flinched at how close he came to it. “And this is Tony’s.” The red button this time. “I’m about to let you out of those chains. If you try anything, it’s his going off. Any tampering, and the collar in question will go off, too.”

Peter nodded, his eyes wide. Significantly more shaken now than when it had been his own neck on the line, Tony noted with a sort of fond annoyance.

“Good.” William released his chains, and he sat like a statue. “Very good.”

“Two days isn’t enough and you—“ Tony began.

“Two days. We’ll see how good you both are.”

With that, William left, taking the remote that held both their lives, and closing the door behind him.

Numbers appeared in red on the far wall, above the work bench. Forty-seven hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-nine, eight, seven seconds. Counting down.

Tony couldn’t take his eyes off them. William hadn’t said what would happen if he and Peter failed, but he had a few guesses. All of them involved death, and unfortunately not William’s.

They had to hurry, and looking at a clock (almost a minute gone already) did nothing. With an effort, Tony tore himself away.

Peter was watching him, warily, like he was trying to read him and not liking what he found. His eyes met Tony’s, pleading silently for him to tell him what to do, to fix it, and Tony didn’t know what to do. But he was the adult here, and not knowing what to do wasn’t something he could afford.

“C’mere, kid.”

Peter got up, slowly, like he was still afraid of setting off one of the collars, and crept to Tony’s side. Tony wiggled his fingers, his wrist still trapped by the chair, and Peter took his hand.

“We’ll get through this. You could probably figure it all out on your own with more time, but I’ll walk you through everything, no big deal. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Peter in a small voice.

“Good.” Tony gave his hand a squeeze and looked at the clock. Two minutes had passed. “Let’s figure out what he’s left here for us.”

  
“Are you sure?”

“Trust me, kid, I grew up working on these things.”

Peter eyed the bomb like it might explode all on its own if he didn’t watch it carefully enough.

“Look, if it goes off, which it won’t because I know what I’m doing, then it’s not our problem anymore.”

“Ha.”

“Go ahead, right where you were pointing.”

“Here?”

Tony leaned as far as he could and squinted to make it out. “Perfect.”

Peter was seated on the floor, as close to the dividing line as could be considered safe. Tony, chained to an unfortunately immovable chair, could see what he was doing fairly well with their current setup, but he would have liked to be closer to see the finer details more clearly. Or to have the use of his hands to point. Or to do it himself. Even from halfway across the room, he could see Peter’s hands trembling slightly as he worked to disassemble the bomb, his pace agonizingly slow.

“You got it, kid.”

“I’m doing it right?”

“Exactly right. You can speed it up, just be gentle.”

Peter sped up, barely, and Tony glanced at the time once again.

Eventually, they fell into a rhythm. Peter grew more confident with each weapon he took apart, and by the last few he was able to do it without relying on Tony’s instruction. He most likely could have by about the third, but given the situation, they were both more than happy to check and double-check.

The next steps were less nerve-racking, although they required Peter to actually use the work bench at the far end of the room, making him harder to see and harder to instruct. Thankfully, he seemed to take well to the task, working quickly now, and even predicting some of the steps himself. Tony couldn’t help but smile in pride. They just might give William a run for his money.

“Hey, this is the ignition, right?” Peter held up a small piece, and once again Tony had to squint to see all the way across the room.

“Yup. You don’t need that.”

“Okay cool. Just wondering.”

“Stay focused.”

“I am.”

With nothing to do but watch in between giving instructions, it was hard for Tony to keep his eyes off the clock above Peter’s head. It loomed there like a physical threat, so strangely ominous that if he hadn’t been restrained, he might have tried to put himself between it and the kid, just on principle. 

Dread ran through his mind again. As well as Peter was doing, it just wasn’t enough time.

  
“It still isn’t fitting.”

Tony tried not to look at the seconds slipping away. “Okay, bring it here.”

Peter hesitated.

“We’re on the clock, let’s go.”

“But he said...”

“There’s nothing left to detonate now. Let me have a look.”

Peter crossed the room to him, bringing the two offending pieces and wincing when he stepped over the groove in the floor, but nothing happened. Tony exhaled, having perhaps been a bit more nervous than he’d let on, and began to inspect the pieces Peter held for him.

“Alright, I see it. What you want to do there is—“

The band around his neck began a shrill warning beep, like a bomb about to go off, and Tony’s heart gave a sickening lurch.

“What’s that!”

The beeping was speeding up, growing more frantic, and Tony was inclined to follow it. “Get back over there.”

Peter sprinted, _flew_ , back across the line in the floor, not stopping until he touched the work bench, and turned to stare at Tony with huge eyes. The beeping had stopped as soon as he crossed back over, but Tony’s heart hadn’t slowed down yet. He felt weak.

“Was that thing about to _explode_?”

“Probably just a warning.” Tony gripped the arms of the chair hard to steady himself. “Now we know.”

“Yeah.” Peter leaned against the table and let out a shaky breath. “Let’s not do that again.”

“We’re fine,” said Tony. “What I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, try turning it a little faster and hitting more gently.”

“Cool. Sorry.”

“Shaping metal like that, it just takes practice. Take your time.”

That was a bad choice of words. They didn’t have time.

  
The clock on the wall showed thirty-six hours left.

Tony already felt exhausted with a combination of nerves, tedium, and plain discomfort from sitting in a metal chair for so long. He could only imagine how it was for Peter, working feverishly and almost without pause the whole twelve hours.

Indeed, Peter looked dead on his feet and decidedly miserable. The past few hours had been a maddening round of trial and error, and Tony had pretended not to notice him swiping at frustrated tears with his back turned at least once. The poor kid needed a break. And a good night’s sleep. And something to eat, for crying out loud. Tony was starting to feel a bit light-headed, and he wasn’t even the one working, with no super metabolism to worry about either.

He didn’t have any food for Peter, and he couldn’t pry the tools out of his hands and send him to bed. The kid had flatly refused the last time he suggested a short break.

He was about to suggest it again when the door in the back of the room opened. Peter stopped working to glare at William, who Tony was surprised didn’t shrivel on the spot.

“Don’t look at me like that. I come bearing gifts.” He set two paper sacks on the floor next to Tony’s chair.

Peter continued to glare.

“I see now you remember the missiles weren’t the only explosives in the room?”

“Yeah, you could’ve mentioned that you’d blow off his freaking head if I brought the other stuff over.”

“Kid—“

“I only gave you a warning,” said William. “And now I’m sure you’ll remember, won’t you?”

Peter looked about ready to start breathing fire, but Tony cut in first. “You’re wasting our time, Will.”

“Well we can’t have that. I have to admit, I was impressed at first, but now you’re a little closer to my initial prediction.”

“Get out.”

“As you wish.”

William left the way he had come, with Peter’s glare still boring holes into him. Tony made a mental note never to cross a cranky spider-child if he could help it.

“Pete?”

“Sorry.”

“You’re good, I would’ve yelled at him, too. Come see what kind of presents we’ve got.”

There was a sandwich and a bottle of water for each of them, and Peter, unfailingly thoughtful even now, insisted on giving Tony a sip of water before he even made a move toward his own.

It was awkward, Peter attempting to wolf down his sandwich while holding Tony’s for him to take bites of, but it wasn’t like they had another option. Tony knew Peter would never allow him to go without, even for the sake of time, so he didn’t even mention the possibility. Only watched the time, still counting down.

“I guess I should keep going,” said Peter once they had finished. He cast a mournful look in the direction of the workbench, like he was pleading with someone to disagree.

“We should.” Tony hated it, he wanted nothing more than to wrap Peter in a blanket and tuck him into bed, but there was only one thing to be done. “Sorry, kid.” He meant it.

“It’s okay.” Peter’s voice was heavy. “Do you want more water first?”

“I’m good. Not seeing a bathroom anywhere around here.”

Peter smiled slightly and made his way back to the other side of the room.

  
Fortunately, Tony’s fears proved unfounded, and they were allowed a trip to the bathroom a while later, escorted separately by two of William’s goons. Perfectly cooperative on pain of the other’s collar being triggered. The time kept counting down.

“Well, moving was nice while it lasted,” Tony muttered as he was chained to the chair once again.

He checked the clock. Close to fifteen hours had passed. Thirty-three remaining. It was too little time to build an arc reactor, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t long.

By eighteen hours (thirty remaining) Peter was seriously flagging. He looked constantly miserable, his hands shook like Tony had never seen, and he breathed heavily like even staying upright was an effort. Or maybe he was just on the edge of a fatigue-induced breakdown. It was hard to tell.

“Alright kid, get over here.”

Peter laid down his work and made his zombie-like way to Tony’s side, practically glazed over from so many hours of intense concentration.

“You’re going to rest now.”

“We gotta hurry...”

“You won’t get anything done like this,” said Tony firmly. “Thirty minutes, just to take the edge off. Then I’ll wake you.”

“M’kay.” Peter didn’t seem to have enough energy to argue, and barely enough to lay down rather than simply fall down at Tony’s feet. He was out less than a second later.

Watching the red numbers count down, it was all too easy to slip into a sort of trance. Tony’s head began to nod, and he squeezed the arms of the chair until his fingers ached in an attempt to keep himself awake. When that didn’t work, he resorted to talking quietly, just to keep himself occupied, because if he dozed off, he and Peter could both easily sleep far longer than they could afford. Not that they would be able to meet the deadline anyway, but Tony wasn’t one to give up without a fight.

“I know you’ve got this place mic’d, William, don’t pretend you can’t hear me,” Tony muttered. “Or one of you guards, whoever’s watching us, make sure your boss hears this.” His head nodded anyway, and he startled upright again. “You’ve had your fun. You’ve seen what the kid can do, and he’s been damn good at it, you have to admit. Whatever you wanted to see, me teaching him, him using what I’ve taught him before, you’ve seen it already.” He looked at Peter, curled up next to his feet. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

It felt uncomfortably like praying. Praying to a cruel god, who didn’t care, but Tony went on.

“At least, whatever you have planned at the end of this, leave him alone. I’m the one you want, and you have me.” He swallowed, and the collar felt tight around his throat. “Just leave him alone.”

The minutes crawled by with Tony struggling to stay awake, until he watched the thirtieth pass with equal parts relief and dread.

“Pete?” He nudged Peter’s back gently with his foot. “Time to wake up.”

Peter groaned.

Tony nudged him a little harder. “Sorry it can’t be longer, kid. I promise, as soon as we get out of this, you can sleep for a week if you want to.”

It took some more prodding, but Peter finally dragged himself upright, still squinting in the light.

“That’s it, drink some water. It’ll help wake you up.”

Peter obeyed robotically, but he did perk up a bit, enough to ask Tony if he wanted some, too. He accepted, and Peter helped him, seeming to come to a bit more.

“Are you good, or do you need to jump around first?”

“I’m good.” Peter crossed to the other side of the room again, and he did jump up and down several times before getting back to work.

Tony’s head nodded again. Had he actually been giving instructions, he might have fared better, but Peter, a genius but not an experienced metalsmith, was still struggling over the exact shape of one of the reactor parts. The most Tony could offer was encouragement or an occasional piece of advice, and, well, close to nineteen hours was a long time to sit in a chair under any circumstances.

“Kid, sorry, m’fallin asleep whether I like it or not.” It was a struggle to even stay awake while talking. “Wake me ‘n twenty. Sooner if you need me.”

  
He must have crashed hard, because when someone shook him he woke up completely disoriented, fighting instinctively against his restraints.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s hand was still on his shoulder, grounding him. “You’re still stuck in the chair, that’s all.”

Right. The chair. Tony dragged himself painfully back into consciousness and stretched his cramping legs the best that he could. His arms and back were a lost cause.

“Sorry to wake you up,” said Peter. “But I got this part figured out and I don’t know what to do next.”

“Good... That’s good, Pete.” Tony blinked blearily and made his eyes focus on the clock across the room, which now read twenty-eight hours and forty-three minutes remaining, meaning he’d been asleep for nearly an hour. “I thought I said twenty.”

“Sorry. I was fine by myself, and you needed it.”

“Alright.” Tony didn’t feel like arguing. “Let’s see what you’ve got. From halfway across the room, naturally.”

“We really don’t have enough time, do we.” It wasn’t a question.

Tony sighed. “It could be tight.”

“What happens then?”

“No idea.”

“Okay.” Peter’s gaze hardened. “I’ll make it work.”

“That’s my kid.” Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him just how hopeless it was. “On to the next stage.”  


Getting the next stage ready, at least, had been easy. As soon as Tony had described the setup, Peter was already putting it together. Then everything went downhill from there.

“It’s not smoking,” said Peter for the eleventh time.

“It should be.”

“Well it _isn’t_.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Then adjust it.”

“I did.”

“ _Again_.”

Peter huffed out a breath and made a minute adjustment to the setup. “Still not.”

Had Tony been allowed to move, he would have buried his head in his hands.

Peter looked at the clock again. He’d been doing that more often lately. “This is taking too long.”

“You’re fine,” Tony reassured him. Empty words. “Keep trying, you’re doing everything right. You just have to find the angle.”

Peter tried, and tried, and tried again, and Tony felt like he might go insane watching him. It had been maddening enough doing this part himself, all those years ago, and now, only able to offer useless suggestions, he almost couldn’t look.

“It isn’t working.” Peter was looking at the clock again, something wild in his eyes.

“Then you just have to keep trying. Come on Pete, this is the hardest part and then all the rest is easier, I swear.”

Peter didn’t move to try again, gripping the table hard.

“Kid?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can.” Tony tried to keep his voice soft and patient and gentle, everything he didn’t feel at the moment. “Just a little adjustment, and check again. This part took me forever, too.”

“I can’t do this.” Peter’s breathing was rapidly speeding up, his hands visibly shaking against the table. “I can’t— I can’t do this, Mr. Stark!”

“Okay, okay, take a breath. You’re fine.”

Peter was gasping, obviously inches away from a panic attack, and he was so far away.

“You know what, time for a break. Come sit with me.”

But Peter shook his head, with another glance at the clock like it was alive and he expected it to jump at him.

“Just for a minute,” said Tony. “We can spare one minute, I promise. Come over here.”

That must have been all the urging Peter needed, because he rushed over to sit on the floor by Tony’s chair again, curling up against his legs. Tony would have given anything to be able to reach out for him, but his wrists were still firmly chained down.

“You’re okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’m so proud of you, kid.”

Peter sniffled quietly and laid his head on Tony’s knee.

“You’ve done amazing. Amazing. Kid your age, never built something like this before, no sleep, under pressure, that sandwich was an awfully long time ago, there’s more that I’m forgetting because this is all shit, and you’re doing so well.”

“It’s not gonna be enough.”

Tony hesitated, torn between being comforting and confirming what Peter already knew anyway. It wasn’t like the fase comfort he could give would be much. “That’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“No,” said Tony firmly. “No, I’m not sure I could even do it in this amount of time, and I’ve built an arc reactor before.”

Peter shrugged. “Is there a chance? If I run back over there right now, is there a chance we might make it?”

“There’s always a chance.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer brimming with hope, and Peter slumped further against Tony’s leg. “What do you think he’ll do?”

“Who knows. But to tell you the truth, I doubt we could just show him a finished reactor and walk on out of here either. He knows we’d come after him, and if we didn’t, Pepper and Rhodey and May would.”

“So what’s even the point.”

“There’s always a chance,” said Tony again. “If not a chance he’ll let us go, then a chance he’ll pretend he’s going to, and that buys us time to do something.”

Peter said nothing, and Tony hated to look down at his bowed head and hunched shoulders when there was nothing he could do.

“I’m so sorry, kid. We got time. We’ll work something out.” It would be nearly impossible to work something out while constantly monitored, but he didn’t say that.

“If I try to build something else he’ll kill me, right?”

“Yes, God, don’t even think about tying that.”

“I know. So just keep going and... hope for the best?”

Something, Tony didn’t know if it was closer to mercy or despondency, wanted to say no. There was no hope. Peter was exhausted, he could rest. They could whisper together and maybe form a plan, as long as the collars didn’t have mics, which they probably did.

But there was always a chance, and Tony didn’t think either of them could stand watching their time run out without trying. That, and if William saw they had given up, he might end his experiment early.

“That’s all we can do for now.” He should at least present the option. “Unless you want to throw in the towel, but I’m not sure... I’m not sure what’s going to happen, Pete.”

“We have to keep going.” There was something, a straightening of the shoulders, an edge, something of the Peter that Tony knew was back. He looked up at him. “I’ll make it work.”

“I know you will. And I’ll be here helping you.”

“Thanks.”

“Gimme your hand, kid.”

Peter slipped his hand into Tony’s, and he held it tightly. He couldn’t move his own hand to bring it to his lips, but he leaned uncomfortably down to kiss it. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  
At the twenty-four hour mark, halfway done with time, not halfway done with the reactor, William brought them food again, more sandwiches. They ate quickly, though not as quickly as before, and Peter got back to work with the same dogged determination.

But even that wasn’t enough. He was sluggish, distracted, slow to respond to Tony’s instructions. At the moment he appeared to be idly tinkering with a stray bit of metal, slouched over the work bench.

“Pete.” Tony tried again. “Pete!”

Peter startled, looking around like he’d been caught stealing.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry.”

“Focus.”

“I’m trying.”

A few minutes later he was at it again, this time tapping lightly at the collar around his neck.

“Kid, don’t do that,” Tony pleaded, his heart missing a beat every time Peter’s fingers made contact with the metal.

“I’m barely even touching it. I’m just curious what—“

A shrill beeping came from the collar, just as it had come from Tony’s before.

“Okay! Okay, I’m not touching it!” Peter raised his hands, but the beeping continued.

“Stop it!”

“I did!”

“He’s not touching it!” Tony shouted at the room, hopefully at William, too, but the beeping continued, growing faster and more frantic, and Peter looked to him with terrified eyes.

“Mr. Stark—“

At what felt like the last possible second, the last possible millisecond, it stopped, and they both sagged in relief.

“What were you _thinking_?”

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to know what it was made of, and to be fair I don’t think that counts as tampering like he said.”

“I don’t care.” Tony tried to take a deep breath, because yelling at Peter really wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “Don’t touch it. Don’t even think about it.”

“I won’t.” Peter seemed to shrink, hugging himself slightly. “Sorry.”

“Just, kid you _know_ how dangerous this is.”

“I wasn’t _tampering_ with it, though. He could see that. He just wanted to freak us out!”

“Then you shouldn’t give him the chance!” Tony snapped. “This isn’t a game with your friends where you can argue over the rules; by the time you start arguing here you could already be dead!”

Peter folded his arms tighter and curled a little more into himself, a rather pitiful figure on the other side of the big room.

Tony softened slightly. “Come take a break.”

Peter shook his head.

“You can’t go a whole other day without sleep, and your decision-making skills have clearly gone out the window already.”

No longer quite so pitiful, Peter glared at him.

“Sorry. But you’re not being safe. You need to rest before you get worse.”

Still glaring, Peter stalked over to him and plopped down sulkily near his feet. Up close, his glare looked less angry and more just... pained.

“You alright?” Tony asked. Peter had just gotten the same scare he had, after all.

“Fine.”

“We’re okay.” Tony said it more to remind himself than anything else. “Nothing happened. Just... don’t do that again.”

“I get it.” Peter looked utterly miserable, huddled on the floor where he was. “Sorry.”

“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Okay.” Peter continued to stare at the floor. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark. I was just...” He trailed off with a vague wave of the hand, blinking rapidly. 

“I know,” said Tony. He nudged Peter’s side with his foot. “Now get some rest.”

Peter curled up on the floor. Despite his sullen expression, he scooted a bit closer, enough to press his back against Tony’s ankle before he fell asleep.  


The hours both slipped and crawled by. They were now an agonizing haze of exhaustion, seemingly endless, but the end was coming, and it wouldn’t be good. Peter and Tony made progress, of course they did, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Peter was still irritatingly distractible (although thankfully he left the collar alone) and it didn’t help that Tony was constantly fighting not to doze off when he should have been keeping him on task. Not that it mattered. But it was the only thing to do.

They ate another sandwich each, which William ominously promised was their last before the results came in. Whatever that meant. They took turns napping, one sleeping while the other attempted to keep awake and watch the time. Tony slept more, and he hated himself for it, but Peter almost always let him sleep longer than he intended. He never scolded him, just felt guilty.

For his part, Peter kept at it, although Tony had no idea how. He no longer even looked tired or miserable, just blank, and he never spoke if not absolutely necessary. It was honestly a bit terrifying to watch.

“You want the smallest one for this,” said Tony, watching as he worked practically in slow motion.

Peter scanned the work surface, moving his entire head instead of his eyes. The smallest screwdriver must not have been there, because he pushed himself up, slowly, like the actual weight of the world was resting on him. He made his trancelike way toward the other side of the workbench, swaying slightly, and then he fell. 

Didn’t fall. _Crumbled_ , without a sound or any indication that he realized something was wrong, and didn’t move again.

“Kid!” Tony instinctively jumped to run to him, grinding his wrists against the restraints of the chair. “Peter!”

Peter didn’t move. He didn’t move, for a whole torturous minute that felt more like an hour, while Tony called for him in vain.

Finally he stirred, mumbling something quietly. Tony bolted forward again, only to be stopped by the restraints digging into his skin.

“Peter?”

“Hmm...”

Tony chuckled slightly, purely out of relief. “You with me?”

“Whassa... M’ Str’k?”

“You passed out, buddy. Give yourself a minute.”

“Oh. S’rry.” Peter struggled to get up, looking like his limbs each weighed about four times what he was used to. 

“Hey, no no, stay down,” said Tony quickly. “Can’t have you falling again.”

“‘Kay.” Peter went nearly limp on the floor. “M’tired.”

“Yeah, you rest a minute. It’s okay.”

Peter fell asleep quickly, which was less than reassuring to watch after the fall he’d just taken, but Tony comforted himself by watching the steady movement of his side as he breathed. It was definitely better than watching the clock. Nine hours left.

Tony meant to stay awake to keep watch over Peter, but his own head nodded over and over again. He woke up with a terrible crick in his neck to find nearly an hour had passed since when he last closed his eyes. Peter was still asleep, and Tony checked to be sure he was breathing. He didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t.

Time continued to tick past. Seven hours left. The arc reactor sat half finished on the work bench, and dread churned in Tony’s stomach.

“Peter?” he called, no louder than a usual speaking voice. “You awake yet?” Really, he didn’t know if Peter was more asleep or unconscious. “We’re running short on time here, kid.” 

Not that it mattered. Even if Peter woke up that instant and resumed work with the skill of an arc reactor expert and the mind of someone who’d had more than three sandwiches and a few catnaps to keep him going over two days of intense labor, there still wouldn’t be time. 

“Never mind,” said Tony heavily. “You just sleep a little longer, Pete. You need it.”

  
They had six and a half hours left when Peter finally woke up again. Before Tony could say anything, he had already struggled to his feet with a groan and bent robotically over the arc reactor and the pieces on the table once more. They looked wrong. Something had gone wrong, undoubtedly thanks to both of their sleep-deprived state, and even what they had wasn’t right.

Tony was torn then, whether to stop him or not. He didn’t.

“Come _on_!” Peter pleaded with whatever was in his hand, at the four hour mark.

Tony gave him the correct instruction. It didn’t seem to help. Probably because the rest of the reactor wasn’t correct.

Two hours, and Peter buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. He was back at it again in a moment, struggling with some part of the reactor while choking back tears, and Tony couldn’t stand to watch him anymore.

“Kid.” No response. “Kid, give it a rest.”

“I almost got it.”

“No you don’t, Pete.” He said it as gently as he could, but it sounded so harsh.

“I do!”

“Peter, please. You’re killing yourself like this.”

“What do you want me to do, wait for him to kill both of us?”

“He won’t.” Tony didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything. “Probably.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh and continued his work.

  
With one hour left, William paid them a last visit. He surveyed the half-made, lopsided arc reactor and shook his head.

“You know, I’ve been told Tony Stark built this in a cave, with a bunch of scraps.” He turned to make malicious eye contact with Tony. “Too bad the two of you can’t.”

“William.” The collar was suffocating around his neck. “Whatever you do, leave him out of this. He hasn’t done anything to you.”

“You still have an hour. After that...” He held up the remote with the red and the blue buttons. 

“William, I’m begging you. Alright, you want to see Tony Stark beg, here it is. Let him go.”

“When you hoarded your knowledge, I paid the price. Why shouldn’t he?”

  
“He won’t, kid.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I don’t, but he’s been having too much fun to just kill us like this. He could be messing with our heads.”

“Well whatever he does it’s going to be bad, and _I’m_ trying to save us!”

Peter was frantically scrambling at the workbench, the most alert Tony had seen him since near the very beginning of their time. He watched him, still giving now-useless directions when asked, watching the minutes tick away. The collar felt tighter than ever before.

Twenty-eight minutes left. Peter snapped something into place on the reactor and took a shuddering breath. For one single, glorious second, Tony thought he’d done it; he’d somehow found a way to both fix whatever they’d gotten wrong and finish it in record time, and that would be a feat for the history books.

But no, the arc reactor looked as wonky as before, and the clock was counting down.

“Come here.”

Peter didn’t move, still tinkering with the damned reactor.

“We’re not saving that thing, alright? That ship’s sailed.”

Peter bent lower over the bits of metal on the table. Was he ignoring him?

“Peter, get over here.” Tony hated the bite in his voice, he hated how desperate he sounded, but he needed Peter close. He needed to _hold_ him.

Finally Peter looked at him, all messy hair and huge doe eyes, looking more eleven than fifteen. Terrified. He looked absolutely terrified.

“It’s okay.” Tony didn’t look at the clock. He didn’t want to know. “We’re going to get out of this, we’ll think of something. Just come over here.”

“He’s not really gonna kill us, is he?”

The kid might as well have been nine. He might as well have been a _baby_ ; he was too young for this. Too young to ever be in this situation. “He’s not going to kill us,” Tony soothed. “We’ll be just fine.”

Because really, William could threaten all he wanted, but he wasn’t going to. That just wasn’t allowed.

They had five minutes, and doubt flashed through Tony’s mind. “Kid, please, come over here.”

“I can’t.”  
  
“ _Why?_ ”

“I can make it work.” His voice sounded choked, and his face crumpled like he was crying, but there weren’t any tears. How long had it been since he’d had water, Tony wondered. “I _know_ I can make it work, Mr. Stark!”

“Kid...”

“Trust me.”

Something about that made Tony sit up and take notice. Gone was the fear and the crying and the pleas that he could make it work from a moment ago. Peter was gazing at him earnestly across the room, and there was something there, something that Tony had seen before, that determination that turned his eyes to fire and made it seem like anything was possible.

“I do trust you, Pete, but we’re out of time.” 

Two minutes. No way, there was no way. William may have proven cruel but he wouldn’t really kill a child, that was the only thing Tony had to hold on to.

“No, Mr. Stark, trust me.”  
  
Tony locked eyes with him across the room. There was something. He didn’t know what, but he held on to it.

“Okay.”

Honestly, he expected a miracle. He expected a perfect arc reactor to flicker to life. He expected an iron suit with razor sharp spider legs and fangs to match. He expected Rhodey and Pepper to come crashing through the ceiling, summoned by a text from the world’s smallest phone that Peter had built from spare parts. But they now had less than a minute left, the seconds disappearing at terrifying speed, and Tony was breathing even faster than that because he didn’t know. He didn’t know, and this could be it, and Peter was all the way across the room.

“Kid—“

“Almost got it!” Peter was scrabbling furiously at the reactor, like he was trying to disassemble it with his fingers, and what was he _doing_?

Thirty seconds. This could be it, and he was too far away. Twenty. “Peter please!”

Peter ran. Tony had never seen someone move so fast, crashing into the table in his haste, climbing into his lap and throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr. Stark!”

“Shh.” Tony tucked his head over Peter’s shoulder in a poor imitation of a hug, because he couldn’t hold him. He just wanted to hold him. “He won’t, kid. I promise you he won’t.”

Seconds running out, and William wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, over the collar. “This is gonna hurt.”

Tony was about to assure him that it wasn’t going to hurt— because it wasn’t going to happen— but if it did happen there was no way they’d feel it, when pain shot through his body. He yelled, Peter did too, and then he was left with a buzzing in his ears as the collar fell off his neck.

“What in the— Oh you genius child.”

“It worked!” Peter ripped the restraints off his chair like it was nothing and jumped to hug him again. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark I’m so sorry, I couldn’t let him know so I couldn’t tell you, but I figured out how to break the lock and turn off the explody part and I built it inside the reactor thing so he wouldn’t see, and then I had to wait to the last second so he wouldn’t be paying attention to see if I brought anything over here, but it worked!”

Tony was only half listening, hugging him for the first time in what felt less like forty-eight hours and more like forty-eight _years_. He was going to have to know all the details later, how Peter had pulled it all off, but at the moment... “You genius, genius kid.” He kissed his head.

“I’m really tired, and I’m gonna start crying soon.” Peter climbed off him and started to pull him to his feet. “Can we go?”

“Sure we can,” Tony laughed. Then he frowned. “They’ll be coming in here.”

“I can take them.” Peter flashed him a tired grin. “Now that they can’t blow us up anymore.”

“You’re amazing.” Tony meant that. He meant it, much more than Peter would ever know.

“Well I did learn from the best.”

“I’m pretty sure I never taught you that.”

“No. But like, part of it.”

“We’ll just say it runs in the family, how’s that?”

“Sounds good.” Peter nudged his head against Tony’s shoulder. “Okay seriously, they’re taking way too long to get in here and I wanna go home. If they wanna fight me, they can catch up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, or come visit me on tumblr @an-odd-idea!
> 
> Please do not print or reproduce this work outside the site.


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